


can't stop thinking 'bout it

by NeverNothing



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 5+1 Things, Accidental Kissing, M/M, feat Nekoma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 21:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20712818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverNothing/pseuds/NeverNothing
Summary: Kuroo could not fight the feeling that he was just short of realizing something life-changing. His heart was racing and he was sure there was a blush painting his cheeks. He wanted it to happen again.I’m screwed,he thought.5 times Kuroo and Kenma kissed by accident + 1 time it was no accident





	can't stop thinking 'bout it

**Author's Note:**

> 5 times Kuroo and Kenma kissed by accident + 1 time it was no accident

\- 1 -

It had been an unsuspecting evening, day even. That is, until Bokuto plopped down in front of Nekoma’s captain and stared at him with wide, expecting eyes.

“Kuroo, I want Akaashi to kiss me.” He finally blurted out.

Flipping through their schedule for this training camp, Kuroo hummed, not at all surprised. The topic of kissing Akaashi had come up a couple of times before already, old news by now. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“I have an idea.” This was the moment it stopped being old news.

Bo’s ideas usually meant trouble, Kuroo knew that, had seen it before. Yet, it seemed Kuroo’s common sense had left him. So, he agreed to help out. He was a good friend after all.

The great plan was to play a game. Not spin the bottle, even though that would have been the easier option. Instead, what Bokuto wanted to play was the paper kiss game.

Kuroo had not know what it was, but Bokuto was gracious enough to explain it to him- his words not Kuroo’s. Goal of the game was to pass one- or multiple- thin pieces of paper. Handicap was that you were not allowed to use hands. Or any body part except for the mouth. 

The game was notorious for accidental kisses if the paper slipped and this was exactly what Bokuto was hoping for. He was quite enthusiastic about it and it was infectious. 

Assembling teams wasn’t that hard- they were at a training camp after all. Deciding on teams was just as easy. Somehow, someone had even roped Kenma into participating. Kuroo guessed it had to do with the persuasion prowess an over-enthusiastic redhead. Not that he minded. He got Kenma on his team, after all.

And admittedly, he was optimistic Bokuto’s plan might work out- Akaashi kept throwing glances in his direction, twiddling his hands in a nervous gesture. Good signs for his best friend, if you asked him.

Kuroo failed, however, to recognize a flaw in their plan. Not until he became painfully aware of it. But it was already too late then.

Everything started of well, the pieces of papers were passed along with no mishaps, teamwork great as always. But then, during the third round, it happened. The paper slid, dropped.

But it wasn’t Bokuto whose paper slipped. It was Kuroo’s. While he was leaning down, passing it to Kenma. The paper slid, it dropped.

There was nothing between. He made direct contact. 

With Kenma’s lips.

Even though it only lasted for half a second, the sensation burned itself into the forefront of Kuroo’s mind. He felt electrocuted. He might have gasped.

Kenma stared at him, too. His eyes wide, lips glistening. The paper they were supposed to pass on was fluttering to the ground like a fallen leaf, innocently. 

Then, Kenma averted his face to look down at the piece of paper, snorted and picked it back up.

They had lost this round, the other players were indulging in various degrees of catcalling. Kuroo still felt prickles, traces of touch.

Staring at the far wall, trying his best to push the memory of Kenma’s lips from his mind and wrangling for composure, Kuroo could not fight the feeling that he was just short of realizing something life-changing. His heart was racing and he was sure there was a blush painting his cheeks. He wanted it to happen again.  _ I’m screwed,  _ he thought. Then,  _ This is all Bo’s fault. _

\- 2 -

“Are you gonna recruit that one?” Kuroo mumbled, pointing at the screen of Kenma’s switch.

Lounging together on Kenma’s bed, they had unanimously decided to spend their sunday afternoon inside. Kenma had been absorbed in his new game and Kuroo, by now, knew how to count his wins and when to admit defeat. There was no way he was going to be able to stop Kenma from playing without having to deal with a snarky blond in return. 

The weather seemed to be in favour of Kuroo’s assessment as it started pouring the moment he stepped a foot into the Kozume household. Faintly, he could still hear the patter of rain against the window. It was relaxing, merging with the low tingle of game music and the spoken words of the characters.

Kenma hummed non-committedly as he was focussing more on the conversation carrying out on this console. His nose was scrunching cutely, his toes curled, telling Kuroo he was apparently not satisfied with the option the game gave him.

He had spent hours watching Kenma play games, he knew his expressions well. The glint in his eyes, sometimes joy at a match well played, a plot well designed, sometimes concentration or cunning. The curl of his lips, sometimes showing a rare smile, thin in seriousness of the situation or disapproving. A crease in his forehead that was a sure sign of dissatisfaction. 

There was a different kind of openness about him then, the way his eyes light up in sight of a new game, his body language became so much easier to decipher. Kuroo would not be lying, though not able to admit, that this was his favourite part about watching Kenma play games.

On the screen, the blue-haired main character was involved in a conversation with a white haired girl. Something about being treated like a kid. Kenma snorted and glanced at Kuroo. He replied with a grin, understanding what he was getting at. The temper did remind him of someone.

Leaning back against Kenma like he had before getting lost in his musings, resting his head on his shoulder, he watched the plot unfold. Commenting now and then, he did not expect Kenma to acknowledge what he had said.

Sometimes, Kenma would add a comment of his own, an observation about mechanics or strategies, his opinion on some characters or a silent laugh in reply.

Together, they watched another support scene play out. Fingers were tapping against the console, a tick Kenma had developed when he was concentrated but not able to translate it into action. Then, his fingers paused. 

“Oh,” the exhale was breathy, low, surprised. 

Considering what just played out, Kuroo understood. 

Curious about the expression Kenma was making, Kuroo faced him, opened his mouth to answer. The words died on his tongue, however, when Kenma did the same.

Their lips brushed.

Kuroo was frozen. A moment passed.

Turning his head back, Kenma continued with the game as if nothing happened. Only the slight red colouring his cheeks betrayed his calm demeanor. Kuroo stared, lips tingling. Kenma’s lips were soft. The memory from the training camp was resurfacing.

\- 3 -

Practice was relatively peaceful for once. Yaku had only yelled at Lev seven times. Kenma had tried to skip an exercise only once, otherwisely cooperating. There was a lot of noise, mostly Lev shouting nonsense but also a lot of laughter. The sound of practice had filled the gym, the sound of connecting, in turn making Kuroo swell up in pride. His team.

His team, that was currently enjoying a loud break, halfway through completing the satisfying workout of the day. Fukunaga was making quiet jokes, Innouka with stars in his eyes was talking to Kai. Kuroo didn’t know what they were talking about.

And then there was Kenma, leaning against the gym wall and covered in sweat. Yaku had passed him a bottle to hydrate so he was replenishing right now. Shibayama was standing only a few steps away, asking questions about the strategy they had practiced earlier and Kenma was answering them like a real senpai would.

It was good. Peaceful.

And ended way to quickly, for some tastes. Kenma’s, for example.

Crouching down, Kuroo tried to make eye contact with the setter that was determinedly trying to avoid it. Kuroo knew him well enough to have figured out what the other was thinking. “Come one, Kenma, get up! Break’s over.”

Behind him, the rest of the team was rowdily getting ready to continue practice. 

Maybe too rowdy. Because the next thing Kuroo heard was a yelp, and then there was something- someone- heavy landing on his back. Causing Kuroo to stumble forward.

In one way or another, Kuroo managed to avoid a fall, bracing himself against the wall, caging Kenma in. The weight pushed him forward further still.

Their mouths pressed against each other, their teeth clacking.

A sputtering Lev was shouting apologies and Kuroo had troubling reeling himself in. He wanted to flip him off. Shout maybe. Make him run a bunch of laps around the gym definitely.

By now, Kuroo should no longer be surprised, considering it was by far the first time it had happened. They kissed. Again. But still, he felt shivers running up his shoulders, his arms bucked and yet he remained upright.

For the first time he was able to take in Kenma’s expression, too. Before he had been too caught up in his own reaction, overwhelmed with the flush of heat that spread in his body. Too occupied to notice, to realize, that maybe, just maybe, Kenma wasn’t as composed has he seemed. There was a blush on his face, too. His eyes were flickering to him, there was  _ something _ in his eyes that Kuroo craved to understand. That realization made the heat intensify, flush his body.

Coach Nekomata was the one to tear Kuroo out of his trance, when he called for practice to continue. Kuroo missed some easy receives, the picture of Kenma’s blush, the smacking sound of their kiss, haunting him.

Thinking back on it, it had kind of hurt.

It was easier to blame Lev for everything.

\- 4 -

Ever since that new game had been released, Kenma had been getting more and more sleepless nights. The rings underneath his eyes grew darker and yet, he made no move to change anything- except maybe slack off more during practice.

Kuroo should nag him for it, but he didn’t. The early mornings, when Kenma, still yawning and barely awake, filled Kuroo in on the story that had progressed during the night. The way his eyes lit up with excitement. The way he relived the emotions by retelling the story characters had to endure. He did not seem as tired then. There was something magnetizing about him. Kuroo could not bring himself to earnestly try to stop him. Plus, years of friendship told him that effort would be in vain anyway.

So instead, he made sure Kenma got all the rest he could whenever possible. Let him doze during lunch time, with his head on his shoulder. Let their sundays pass with just hanging out, not leaving the house even though he missed their outings.

And still, without prompting on Kuroo’s side, Kenma went out with Kuroo that sunday, suggested they met up at the cinema. No way Kuroo would refuse that offer.

As expected, Kenma fell asleep halfway through the movie.

Looking down at the blond, whose head was resting against the back of his seat, Kuroo did not want to wake him. With a sigh, he decided on what to do next.

Heaving Kenma on his back went more smoothly than he had hoped, and soon, Kuroo left on his way home with his hands securely around Kenma’s thighs and the familiar, comfortable warmth of his body against his back. Adjusting his grip, he marched onward. 

Kenma was heavier than he had expected, and Kuroo snorted at that thought. The blond did not play hours of volleyball for nothing to happen. He left the cinema quickly and chose to walk along the shortcut they had discovered years ago.

The way back was painted in the colours of the setting sun, shadows creeping up lazily, as if not wanting to disturb the scenery. Kuroo knew that path well, walked it often. Usually with Kenma walking beside him and not on his back.

Slow puffs of air against his neck gave him goosebumps. Kenma was still fast asleep. 

The steady rhythm of Kenma’s breath, along with the pattern of his steps against concrete settled something within him. This felt right.

It was then that he felt it. A featherly touch against his neck.

With a gasp, Kuroo realized. That was Kenma. Checking to see if he was still asleep, Kuroo adjusted his grip once again. Another puff of air, another scrape of lips. He was, still asleep.

Kuroo had to pause in his step, to get his bearings. With a deep inhale, he continued on his path. Kenma’s lips kept brushing against his nape every now and then, making fireworks explode along Kuroo’s everything.

Tipping his head back, leaning against Kenma’s, Kuroo finally allowed himself to remember. He had felt those lips before, on his. Remembered each detail, each encounter. Wanted more. He wanted them. He wanted this. He wanted Kenma.

\- 5 -

Following that fateful evening, it seemed as if Kuroo’s eyes had opened. He started noticing it. Started noticing their habits. Part of him wondered how he had not realized it sooner. 

The way Kuroo would easily hand his bottle over to Kenma to drink from, during practice, during games, during their sunday outings, whenever. How he himself used to drink from that very same bottle with no second thought at all. They had always done that.

Nowadays, he still did. Gave his bottle for Kenma to drink from or accepted Kenma’s when it was the other way around. 

But before he set it on his lips, he would hesitate. He would remember, barely noticeable. Sometimes, he would feel a ghost of a sensation. It threw him off-skelter. And still, he did drink, nonchalantly- or so he hoped.

The way they would share food. How he naturally divided part of his lunch, picking out stuff he knew Kenma liked, just to feed to him later.

When Kenma got so distracted gaming that he forgot to eat, Kuroo would make sure he still got something to fill his stomach. Apples that Kenma’s mom would cut for them, sometimes a pie Kuroo’s grandma had made.

Pushing the piece of fruit passed Kenma’s lips, Kenma took the bites absentmindedly. Insurmountably self-aware, Kuroo knew he paid too much attention to the action. To the lines of Kenma’s small mouth, lips parted and glistening in the light of Kenma’s gaming console. Kuroo’s mouth went dry.

He wanted to trace them. He really wanted to feel them again.

Flopping down, Kuroo groaned. This was going to be the end of him. He answered Kenma’s questioning hum with a vague gesture and an even louder sound of desperation, not wanting to talk.

He would remember the way they shared chopsticks, too. Whenever Kuroo held out something to eat during lunch, Kenma would stretch to take the bite. Kenma’s mouth wrapped around the piece of food.

During their last lunchtime, his grip slackened, Kuroo gaped as some circuits in his mind fried and one chopstick fell with a comedic pause. But Kuroo wasn’t laughing. Wiping his mouth, Kenma frowned at him, expression conveying his dissatisfaction for almost dropping food.

“Sorry,” Kuroo mumbled. He could not stop thinking about it. He wanted to kiss Kenma. Always.

The thought left him flustered.

It drove him crazy.

This had to end. Kuroo had to do something about this. 

\- +1 -

Coming to a decision was easier than tackling the issue, Kuroo learned. So he continued as always.

Went to practice as always, worked hard at school, accompanied Kenma on his way to and back from school, spending their sundays together. Everything was as it always had been. With the exception that Kuroo still spent a considerable amount of time thinking about Kenma, and his lips.

They were on their way home now, after a busy and exhausting day of school and practice. The summer heat was stifling and Kuroo wanted to change out of his uniform as fast as he could. It was sticking uncomfortably to his skin.

Rush hour, the sheer amount of people squeezed into the train, made it even worse. Kuroo’s build was useful in times like these. The crowd was pressing Kuroo and Kenma close to each other, with Kuroo shielding Kenma against strangers as best as he could. 

This, in return, made Kuroo tower over the blond, one arm bracing itself against the wall so he would not crush him too much. They were so close, Kuroo was staring at the crown of Kenma’s head, where roots were showing. His eyes followed those strands, leading to Kenma’s face, took in the gentle slope of his cheek.

He was looking down, gripping the strap of his bag. Kuroo wished he could see his eyes, check on his condition. The crowd sometimes overwhelmed him.

As if he heard Kuroo’s thoughts, Kenma glanced up. Their eyes met. His mouth formed words but did not speak them. Instead, he angled his head in silent question.

After all this time, all what has happened, Kuroo couldn’t help himself. His gaze lingered on Kenma’s lips. Bow-shaped, delicate. Enticing. He was so close, he wanted to kiss him again. His breath hitched.

“Kuro.” Kenma’s voice was breathy, his hand moved from the strap of his bag to the hem of Kuroo’s jacket, pulling it weakly.

Clearing his throat, his eyes moved up to meet Kenma’s. His heart was racing, his hand felt clammy. Kenma was staring, too.

“May I kiss you?” Those words took all his willpower.

“Is this going to be another accident?” There was a tease in Kenma’s eyes.

A low chuckle rose in Kuroo’s throat. “Of course,” he played along.

Half a step closer, as close as he could be, Kuroo’s hand was shaking as he raised it to rest against Kenma’s cheek, finally touching. His eyes were not straying from Kenma’s, looking for a sign of unwillingness. He saw none. Instead, Kenma’s eyes fell closed, his head angled up. He was waiting.

So Kuroo answered, leaned in. Pressed up against Kenma in a soft kiss. But this time, intentional. Kuroo lingered, enjoying the way shivers ran down his spine, feeling the clench of Kenma’s fist on his jacket.

When Kuroo opened his eyes again, forehead resting against Kenma’s and heart still not catching a break, Kenma was staring back at him. Eyes wide, golden, accentuating the blush on his face. Kuroo was soaring.

Then, he quipped up in a teasing smile that usually suited Kuroo more. “Aren’t we past these kinds of kisses already?” He rested his free hand against Kuroo’s thudding chest, smile widening when he felt the erratic beat.

Kuroo wanted to kiss him again.

As if reading his mind, Kenma glanced around to check if anyone had seen them. He shook his head lightly and pushed against Kuroo. Whispering. “Not here though.”

It was only then that Kuroo remembered they were in a train filled with people, in public. His cheeks heated up in embarrassment and he had to agree. Thankfully, no one had paid special attention to them. No one was throwing disapproving glares their way or was obviously averting their gaze. No one had seen.

They couldn’t exit the train fast enough.

In a corner of the train station, thankfully desolate, Kenma pulled Kuroo closer again so the blond himself was crowded against the wall. Their kiss this time was not as innocent as the ones from before. Their lips moving against each other as they figured each other out, Kuroo’s hands gripping Kenma’s waist, pulling, pressing. 

He loved every second of it.

**Author's Note:**

> [| @Twitter](https://twitter.com/nevernothingx3)


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